Dirty Little Truths
by iceclawtwc
Summary: A bitch of a hangover. No idea what happened the night before. A little sore in the dick? Dunno what's going on here. Rated M for everything.
1. Introduction

DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park. It was created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and is aired on Comedy Central. I am using South Park for non-profit entertainment only.

Dirty Little Truths

Introduction

Words: 3,612

...

Ugh. I hate Mondays. After attempting to murder my alarm clock for the fourth time this morning, I lazily rolled out of bed. The clock read 6:47. Well, fuck. School started at 7:30. I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Once I was there, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing an oversized navy blue Terrance and Philip shirt and red boxers. My black hair was messy and fluffy. Damn, I needed a haircut. I stepped into the shower, attempting to shake off my exhaustion from staying up until 2:30 the night before. I turned on the water. Oh FUCK it was cold! After the water warmed up I worked my Head and Shoulders shampoo through my hair before putting the same brand of conditioner in it. Next I washed my whole body with strawberry shower gel. Think smelling like strawberries is gay? High school girls like strawberries a lot fucking better than the weird-ass smells of "manly" things. I rinsed myself off with cold water and exited the shower, wrapping a towel around my lower half and walking to my room to get dressed. I stared at my closet for a few seconds before grabbing a pair of black boxers, slightly ripped skinny jeans, brown fluffy snow boots, a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, a red scarf, red gloves, my favorite red and blue poofball hat, and a Honey Badger t-shirt. After stuffing books and shit into my red backpack and slinging it onto my shoulder, I walked back to the bathroom. I dropped the backpack onto the floor and rapidly brushed my teeth before I picked up the backpack again and walked downstairs, taking an apple and an energy bar from the kitchen.

"Have fun at school, honey!" My mom, Sharon Marsh, called after me as I walked out the door.

"Bye Mom." I murmured tiredly in reply. After I grabbed my brown snow jacket from the coat hanger, I walked swiftly to the bus stop, hoping not to be late.

"Hey dude." Kenny McCormick greeted. "...Some night last night, huh?" He was referring to my tired eyes and tousled hair.

"Not now, Kenny..." I groaned.

"Come on, spill!" he encouraged. Kenny's one of my closest friends. Today he was wearing an orange fluffy snow coat, dark brown boots, brown gloves, and orange snow pants. He's poor as fuck. He buys all his clothes from thrift stores, and usually has a messy appearance. Back in seventh grade his grandpa (who he didn't really know) died, so his family got whatever money the guy had. Sadly, his dad and older brother blew a lot of the money on beer and cigarettes, but they spent a lot of it on food too. He grew a lot that year, and now he's 5'9- the same height as me. He has alluring blue eyes and charmingly unkempt blonde hair. Last year he got into a really bad fight and ended up losing two of his teeth, and because his family can't afford braces, the teeth that are left are really uneven. Kenny's also bisexual, and I'm pretty sure that he wants to fuck me.

"Nothing happened, dude. I was just talking to Wendy on my phone all night." I muttered.

"Well that's no fun. Unless it was phone sex!" Kenny said.

"I told you, Kenny. I'm still waiting for her. We're only 15, anyway."

"Yeah yeah, Stan. I know." Kenny said dismissively, waving me off as someone else arrived.

"Hey Kyle! Damn, and I thought_ I_ was late!"

"Hey Stan." Kyle Broflovski replied with a tired smile, probably deciding to ignore my comment.

"Are you okay? You look exhausted." I ask worriedly.

"Well I...sort of pulled an all-nighter last night." he said, gently laughing. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"What? And you didn't text me?" I scolded teasingly. Kyle's been my super best friend ever since we were babies. People sometimes think we're gay lovers and we do share a lot of gay moments, but we don't care. Right now he's wearing a orange snow coat, dark green skinny pants, light brown tall boots, a green scarf, green gloves, and his old green ushanka. His red hair used to be in the style of a frizzy Jewfro, but he cut it short in 7th grade. Now, whenever he takes a shower, he uses a de-frizzing shampoo and conditioner on his hair, then straightens it with a straightening-iron thingy. The result is soft, touchable red locks. I love it and touch it all the time, but like most girls, he yells at me when I do. He has innocent emerald eyes that I stare happily into on a daily basis. See why people think we're gay? Anyways, Kyle is a really caring person who always knows how to comfort someone. Also, he's one of the best students at our high school. I admire that about him.

"No time, Stan. Since I was hanging out with you guys all weekend I couldn't finish three essays, a huge pre-calc assignment, a science paper, or study for the test on Friday!"

"Is all of that due today?" I question, panicking slightly.

"No, most of it is due next week, I-" Kyle started.

"Next week? Why'd you do all of it then? And why are you studying for the test every single day?" I don't understand Kyle at all.

"To get it done! I'm not a procrastinator like _you_." he states affectionately. "And I have to study for the test each day so that I won't forget a thing about anything that could be in it."

"...wow. Wow Kyle. That's amazing."

"You guys have ALL that work to do? That fucking sucks ass." Kenny laughs.

"Kenny, you troll. I wish I wasn't in all honors classes. Whoever put me in them is some kind of sadist, I fucking swear." I groan. At that moment, Cartman walks up to us.

"Hey, fags."

"Um...hi Cartman." Kyle says absently. Awkward silence. "Yeah, I'm great, Cartman, thanks for asking. How are _you_ fucking doing?"

"God, Jew, get the sand out of your vagina." Cartman comments. What an ass.

"Jesus, Cartman. Kyle was up studying all night last night. Shut the fuck up." I scold, happily defending Kyle.

"Trying to stick up for your little boyfriend, are we, Stan?"

"Cartman, he's not my boyfriend and you know it." Jesus Christ. With Cartman you can never know what to expect. I mean, he most likely has serious mental problems. Anyway, he used to be pretty much obese. He got sick of everyone calling him fat, though, so he awkwardly came to me for help in the summer before 9th grade. Honestly, I don't know why he came to me, but I guess Kenny just doesn't eat very much and there's no way Cartman could do that, and Kyle...well, Kyle's slim and toned but Cartman would just be too embarrassed to go to him. Also, I eat almost as much as Cartman but I work out on a daily basis so I'm mostly lean muscle, and therefore I know lots of muscle-building (and fat-burning) techniques. Ugh, I sound like a girl. Anyways, I decided to not be a dick and help him. He said he wanted to "boost his reputation" for high school. It was hard though. I had to force him to do 25 pushups and 40 sit-ups whenever he tried to eat anything processed. This plan caused us to break out in fights a lot. That helped get rid of fat as well. Also I had to make him eat salads, vegetables, and all-natural foods. Right now he's 5'10 and still big-boned, but he has a flat stomach and a fair amount of muscle all around. I'm...actually sort of proud of him. Don't tell anyone that though. Today he was wearing a big red jacket, brown pants, a yellow scarf, yellow gloves, big black boots, and his turquoise and yellow hat. He styles his brown hair everyday, and he has piercing hazel eyes that can stare right through you.

"Oh, Stan. You don't have to lie to me!" Cartman said. Ugh. Cartman fails at life. Nothing he says gets to me...unless it's about Wendy. But he doesn't need to know that.

"Shut up, fatass." Kyle saved.

"Ay! I'm not fat anymore, Jew!"

"You were fat for over 10 years of the years I've known you, Cartman. I'm not gonna stop." Kyle countered.

"Your mom is a fat bitch, but you don't tell her she is, Kahl!" Cartman retorted angrily.

"Don't call my mom a fat bitch!" Kyle responded, now getting flared up. Cartman grinned at this, and they plunged into an active, vulgar argument. Finally, the bus arrived. It was obviously late, and now I'm gonna have to deal with walking into class late. Again.

...

"Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh! You're late to class again, I see." Mr. Garrison taunts in his stupid voice. Ha. Just as I predicted. Why is this assmunch teaching Honors classes anyway? "What were you two lovely boys up to together?" A few people in the class snickered loudly. Ugh. Not this again. Kyle gave me a worn-out, exasperated look. I sighed and decided to do the talking for him.

"Mr. Garrison, sir, the bus was late again. We're sorry for the delay." Why do I have to pretend to respect this asshole of a teacher? It's cruel. I looked around the classroom. Even though smart, attentive people were supposed to be in this class, everyone tried their hardest to be in the back of the room. The only seats left were right in front of Mr. Garrison. Ugh. Fan-fucking-tastic. Even Kyle, being as academically hardworking as he is, visibly grimaces as he sits down next to me.

"As much as I'd _love_ to believe you, Stanley, I doubt that that's the case. Don't let it happen again, okay?" Mr. Garrison continues. Luckily he doesn't say anything more after that, and starts to "teach" his class. I prop my head up on my hands and stare at the clock, awaiting the end of the period.

...

At about 5:37 P.M. on Friday I was laying in my bed listening to my iPod, completely bored. Kyle had scored 100% on his pre-Calculus test. I got 76%. How does Kyle fucking do it? Well, I guess he studied for it every day. I did okay though. 76% isn't that bad. I felt my phone vibrate on my chest. Finally.

"stan! theres a party at bebes tonite. its at 8. be there ;)" Kenny McCormick, 5:38 P.M. Aw, fucking sweet, dude! I haven't gone to a party in like, forever.

"Kyle! Are you going to Bebe's party tonight? :)" Stan Marsh, 5:40 P.M.

"Yep! I'm done with all the homework I got last Friday, so I'm free." Kyle Broflovski, 5:42 P.M.

"I'm coming over. :D" Stan Marsh, 5:43 P.M.

I looked around the house for another person. Sharon was away on a "date" with her "girlfriends". I still have no idea why moms call their female friends girlfriends. I found Randy watching TV.

"Dad, I'm staying over at Kyle's tonight, okay?" I told him. He shot me a suspicious look.

"Again? Stan, I'm getting a bit concerned." He said. Of course he was afraid that I was gay for Kyle. Psh.

"Fine, Dad. I'm going over to Kyle's and then to a girl's party." I admitted the truth.

"That's my Stan! Go get 'em, son!" His got up and slapped me on the back.

"Ow." I muttered. "Um...thanks, Dad. Bye." I slipped on my overcoat and walked out the door, reaching Kyle's house in about five minutes. Instead of ringing the doorbell, I decided to text Kyle.

"Answer the door, bitch." Stan Marsh, 5:56 P.M. In about twenty seconds, the door was opened to reveal Kyle in all his glory, without his hat on. His hair had regained some of its waviness but hadn't completely poofed out yet.

"Hey Kyle." I greeted happily, walking into his house.

"Hey Stan." he replied, giving me an affectionate hug.

...

Kyle and I did nothing together for two hours, and now we're getting ready for the party.

"Babe. Are you going to Bebe's party? :)" Stan Marsh, 8:02 P.M.

"Yeah, totally. You're going too, right?" Wendy Testaburger, 8:03 P.M.

"Yeah. See you there gorgeous." Stan Marsh, 8:04 P.M. Sweet. If all else fails, I can just make out with my awesome girlfriend.

"C'mon Kyle, let's go." I said to the redhead, putting my arm over his shoulder and leading him out the door. Bebe's house was literally a few houses away from Kyle's. It took us about two minutes to reach the party, and we made a grand entrance when I picked up Kyle bridal-style. Sure, I was just asking for people to tease me about whether I'm straight or not, but most people knew that we really were just best friends. The only two people who I really knew who teased about it a lot were Cartman and Mr. Garrison. As we walked in there was an outbreak of "Eyyyyyyyyyyy!"s and some people actually clapped.

"Let...me down! Let me fucking down, Stan!" Kyle protested, struggling in my arms.

"But Kyle...you know you like it." I teased, smirking seductively at him. His mouth went agape and he blushed tomato-red. "It was a joke, dude." I laughed.

"Aghh...let me down...!" He struggled harder. I finally gave in and set the shorter boy onto the floor. At that moment, Bebe walked up to us.

"Hey boys." She smiled, curling a strand of hair in her fingers. "Glad you could come...especially you, Kyle." I wasn't offended. Bebe has always thought that Kyle had a great fucking ass, and pretty much all the girls in my class want to fuck me anyway so with Bebe I can catch a break. Kyle blushed slightly, again. But before he could say anything...

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyy guysssss!" Kenny exclaimed, walking between Kyle and I and putting his arms around both of us. "Hey...Bebe." he added, winking at the blonde.

"Screw off, Kenny." Bebe retorted, making a pouty face at him. Kenny hadn't gotten laid yet, but he'd sure as fuck gotten close. Kenny was one of the hotter guys in school (no homo) but Bebe wanted to stay away from him for some reason. "Anyways, guys, the snack and drink table is over there, and you guys can hang out wherever! See you later!" She smiled cutely and walked away.

"Damn...she's hot, all right." Kenny comments, and licks his lips when he sees her ass in the short, tight dress she was wearing. "Did you see her tits in that dress?" He whistles. Alright, maybe_that's_ why she's attempting to stay away from him.

"Wendy's hotter." I say proudly. "Correction: She's more beautiful."

"Stan?" A feminine but dignified voice called. That was Wendy. "Are you talking about me?" I turn around to look at her. She was only two inches shorter than me at five foot seven.

"Yes babe, I'm talking about you." I bend down slightly to kiss the top of her head. She responds to this by tilting her head up and kissing me on the lips. I savor her sweet lips for a few seconds before gently entering her mouth. Then I wrap my arms around her and hold her closely. Kyle and Kenny look on.

"I'm soooooo jealous." Kenny mutters, walking away. I finally break the kiss and turn to Kyle.

"Sorry for making you feel like a third wheel, dude," I laughed breathlessly, now putting my arm around Wendy's waist and settling my hand on her slim hip. Wendy and I were both smiling, but I was smiling like an idiot.

"...That's alright, Stan." Kyle says awkwardly, fiddling with his hands self-consciously.

"You know, Kyle, you should give Bebe a chance. She, well, she really likes you." Wendy tells him with a smile and heart-melting kindness. I turn to her, mouth agape, before grabbing her and smashing our lips together. The kiss was sloppier this time, and I brought one of my hands up to run through her silky raven hair.

"...I'll consider it, Wendy. I guess I should leave you guys alone." Kyle said. Wendy broke the kiss this time.

"No, I'll go. I should go hang out with Bebe. See you around, Stan." She smiled shyly at me before winking and walking off.

"Man..." I sighed. "She's so amazing..." I faced Kyle, smiling dreamily.

"Uh...yeah." Kyle muttered.

"Oh, hey again." Kenny appears again. "I hit on Bebe again. She punched me in the face." He pointed to his black eye, grinning stupidly.

"Damn dude, what did you say?" I ask him.

"'Hey Bebe. Why don't we go upstairs so I can touch your fucking gorgeous tits?'" Kenny admits, not missing a beat.

"Ugh, Kenny. Are you drunk or something?" Kyle questions. Hm...is there alcohol at this party?

"...maybe just a liiiiittle bit." Kenny responds, smiling sheepishly.

"Wow! Is there alcohol here?" I ask excitedly. Sure, 15 isn't the best time to start drinking, but I did it when I was 10 and survived. Besides, don't little kids in Italy drink watered-down wine? Why do we have to be 21 here? Fuck the police.

"Uh-huh. Come over here, bro." He leads me to the drink table. There was a punch bowl, cans of soda in a container of ice, and a closed ice chest. There was a piece of paper on the top that said "WARNING. DRINK AT YOUR OWN RISK. -Bebe :)" I laughed slightly at the note, and opened the chest. It was full of beer cans. I shrugged and grabbed one, opening it and taking a few sips.

"Jesus Christ beer tastes bad." I comment, grimacing.

"Keep drinkin', dude." Kenny encourages.

"Stan, is this really a good idea?" Kyle asks me worriedly. "You really shouldn't-"

"Kyle, loosen up. You should have some too." I tell him, smiling and taking another can out before handing it to him. He sticks his tongue out at the can and hands it to Kenny.

"More for me." he shrugs before chugging it. I drink some more as quickly as possible. Pretty soon I was finished with the can so I grabbed another one. I wanted to feel the buzz soon.

"Please, Stan...don't you remember what happened when-" Kyle continues, but cuts himself off when Clyde Donovan and Token Black walk up.

"Chug! Chug!" Clyde cheered, jumping up and down. Token shrugs and grabs a Dr. Pepper.

"I'm not getting drunk." He murmurs.

"Well I am." says Clyde, taking a beer and drinking it so fast he chokes.

"Idiot." Token mutters.

"Hey guys." I greet. "Where's Craig at? I haven't seen him yet." Craig Tucker was part of my usual lunch group. Most of the time he didn't really say much and could be kind of a dick, but he was my friend nonetheless. A better friend than Cartman, anyway.

"He's just laying on the couch and flipping people off as they walk by." Token answers while Clyde starts to chug another beer. "Clyde, you're going to kill yourself."

"Challenge accepted!" I heard Clyde declare. Great. I finished my second beer and took out yet another one. I was feeling a bit drunk now. After talking with Token, Clyde, and Kenny for a little longer and drinking more beer, I finally felt wasted.

"I love you...guys." I slurred. "Let's get...married."

"I love you too, Stan." Kenny agreed. "Let's make sweeeet love in the...garden." We laughed drunkenly.

"No, noo...let's make love in...ass..." Clyde added.

"Great...great idea, Clyde!"

"My peniiiiiis is 10 inches long."

Token shook his head and walked away with a smug smirk. Kyle bit his lip, hung his head, and trotted off.

"Kyle?!" I shouted. "Don't go, bro!" But he didn't look back. I shrugged, my hazy mind deciding that he was okay.

I think I kissed Kenny at one point, but I'm not sure. The rest of the night went by in a blur.

...

"Stan, wake up! You have to leave NOW!" Bebe yelled, shaking me awake. I tried to focus my blurry vision.

"H-huh...?" I muttered.

"My parents are almost here!" She helped me up and led me out the door.

"Sorry, Stan. Walk home, quick! You were asleep in my guest bedroom all night. Go, go, go! Bye!" She pushes me out the door. I stand there, confused. ...Huh?

What the fuck happened last night?


	2. Chapter 1: Regret

Dirty Little Truths

Chapter 1: Regret

Words: 2,960

...

A bitch of a hangover. No idea what happened the night before. A little sore in the dick? Dunno what's going on here. I stumbled into my house, exhausted, and thumped up the stairs before anyone in my family could see my disheveled state. Seeing my closed bedroom door, I moaned in annoyance before taking the time to turn the door handle and clumsily walk in, slamming the door behind me. Stumbling over to my bed, I then proceeded to flop face-first on it, ready to sleep.

…

All day I had slept, and now it was 5:38. Shit. I groped my jeans for my phone and finally pulled it out of one my butt pockets. 6 new messages. Shit, that's a lot. I sighed obnoxiously and read the newest one.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. That's cool. :(" Kyle Broflovski, 4:51 P.M.

"Stan! Dude, omg why aren't you replying? Is something wrong?" Kyle Broflovski, 2:34 P.M.

"Stan, talk to me please? :(" Wendy Testaburger, 1:56 P.M. Dammit.

"Stan, I know you keep your phone in your pocket all the time. Are you still sleeping or something?" Kyle Broflovski, 1:12 P.M. Ugh, Kyle's such a girl.

"Um...Stan, what did you do last night? Kenny just came into my room and said something like 'damn, Stan's such a sex god.' Then he fell asleep. Should I be concerned?" Kyle Broflovski, 10:38 A.M. Shit. What the fuck? It's not unlike Kenny to do that, but...oh my god. What if I had sex with him or something? I was kinda planning to lose my virginity with my _girlfriend_.

"Where did you go baby? I can't find you :c" Wendy Testaburger, 9:47 P.M. Shit, she went looking for me. I shot a text out to both of them.

"Sorry babe, I was hanging with my bros. I looked around for you too :( Hang out tomorrow maybe?" Stan Marsh, 5:45 P.M. Since I have no idea what happened last night I made up a lame excuse of where I was. Hopefully it was good enough to satisfy Wendy,

"Ugh Kyle, I don't know. I'm coming over :P" Stan Marsh, 5:46 P.M.

...

Kyle was waiting for me at the door, opening it when he saw me through the living room window of his house.

"Hey dude." He greets gently upon seeing my messy appearance.

"Hey Kyle. Sorry for not responding. I was sleeping pretty much all day." I muttered in reply. "Yeah um, remind me why exactly I wanted to drink last night?"

"I don't know Stan, I wasn't going to stop you though. There probably wouldn't have been anything I could've done to make you not drink." Kyle pointed out softly. "Are you okay?" Aww, Kyle's so sweet.

"Yeah, I'm okay. You?"

"I'm awesome. The party was actually pretty sweet, but I don't know where the fuck you went after you got wasted." Kyle said, smiling as the two of us walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Then, something clicked in my mind.

"Why didn't you look for me? Wendy did!" I questioned, slightly hurt. "Don't you care? I could do terrible things when drunk, you know..."

"Well, I...I didn't know where to look..." Kyle says, confused. We enter his bedroom. I sit down on his bed.

"Kyle...why did you walk away?"

"I'm sorry, Stan! You, Kenny, and Clyde...you guys were just being dumbasses!" He paused and groaned in annoyance. "Again, I'm sorry, okay?" I was silent for a moment.

"...It's alright, dude. Just...please look out for me next time, okay? I probably did something really fucking stupid last night."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will." Kyle smiled, and the tension in the room evaporated. I smiled back and took his hand before squeezing it. After all that we've been through together, I like to seek comfort from him in any way possible. He blushed and squeezed my hand back. I then dropped it and laid down on Kyle's bed. His mouth turned into a pout and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Something wrong, dude?" I asked cheerfully.

"It...it's nothing..." Kyle sputtered. Jesus Christ he's a horrible liar.

"I can tell that it's not just nothing." I insist, sitting up slightly.

"It really is, I swear!" he continues.

"Kyle, please. You can tell me anything. I don't care what it is, I just want to know so I can help you with it." I say sweetly with a genuine smile, tilting his head up so he could look at me directly.

"Um...I'll tell you later, I promise." he said, turning away and flushing a deep red.

"Alright, that's cool with me I guess." I reply, satisfied enough. He probably just likes someone but doesn't want to tell me who it is. He did blush, after all. At that moment my phone vibrated. I struggled to pull it out of my pocket, and then viewed the message.

"come over to my house. i need to talk to u :/" Kenny McCormick, 6:13 P.M. Huh. I didn't really get to spend much time with Kyle, but Kenny's cool too. I wonder what he needs to talk to me about.

"Kyle, Kenny wants me to go over to his house. I'll see you later, okay?" I said, giving Kyle a brief bro hug.

"...okay." he says dejectedly, returning the hug and giving a small wave as I walk out the door. "Bye, Stan."

...

I stand at the front door of the McCormick residence, which is probably the most run-down building that anything living inhabits. The walls all all cracked and shit, it's tiny as fuck, and...well, this place isn't a house. I heard that Kenny's dad and Kyle's dad built it when they were younger, and they totally weren't trying to build a house. I feel bad for Kenny, but I can't really do anything about his situation. I cautiously and gently knock on the front door, which looked like it could fall apart at any moment. I slumped my shoulders in relief when Kenny answers the door.

"Whew...hey Kenny." I greet casually. Kenny eyes the street cautiously.

"Okay listen, I'm home alone...I think. For now, at least. Come in." He said hurriedly, pulling me inside his house. "My dad and Kevin are out at a bar, but I don't know where Karen is. Or my mom." He bit his lip worriedly.

"I'm sure they're fine. Now what do we need to talk about?" I tried to lift the mood, but Kenny just gives me a weird look.

"Why are you acting so normal? Don't you know what...what we did?" he asks, walking towards his bedroom. When we enter it, I notice a new poster of some random girl with big boobs in a bikini. I roll my eyes. Why Kenny keeps a poster like that up in his room is beyond me.

"Kyle told me that he started to suspect something when you...went into his room saying 'damn, Stan's such a sex god'." I announce flatly. Kenny blushes.

"Um...yeah, that's sort of what we need to talk about. I...fuckinglovedit, but...I don'twantyoutobemadatme." He rushed, leaving me confused.

"Fuckingloved what?" I question. Jesus Christ, don't let him say we had sex. God, please...

"Don't you remember? We...um...had sex." His voice goes down almost to a whisper on the last part. And fuck, my life is screwed. Okay, um...ugh, try to keep calm. I closed my eyes and pinched my nose, muttering "Jesus Christ".

"Fff...fuck, ugh. Fuck." I mutter. Kenny lowers his head in shame and averts his gaze. "You loved it?"

"Um...kind of?" Kenny says, grinning sheepishly at me as he recalls the memory.

"That's okay, Kenny. I know you're gay for me, but no homo, sorry." I sigh. "I can't believe I lost my virginity to a guy..." Kenny frowns again. I shake my head in silent disbelief.

"I...I was going to lose it to Wendy...both of us..." I continued, my voice cracking pathetically. The reality of what I had done was hitting me even harder by this point. "Oh god, who topped?"

"U-um...you did, Stan..." Kenny sputters. I got on top of Kenny and fucked him? Me?

"Why don't I remember it? What if you're lying?" I accused, trying to hold back tears.

"Stan!" Kenny yells angrily. "I would _never _lie to you about something like this! You were just drunk off your fucking ass! My memory of it is hazy, but I know that what I've told you is true."

"Wendy says she looked around for me. Oh god. What if she figures it out? What if she suspects that something happened?" I thought aloud, a few tears now running down my face. I wanted to yell at Kenny again, to ask him if he took advantage of me because I was wasted. But even though Kenny's perverted and has the hots for me, he wouldn't do that, right? No, I can't accuse him of that. Kenny's a really good guy on the inside. "I told her that I was hanging out with my bros, which I now know was mostly true..."

"Relax. She might have had a drink too." Kenny said, gently. Maybe Wendy didn't want to encounter me again after the awkward third-wheel thing with Kyle. Maybe she just wanted to be with her best friend, Bebe. But I just can't help the feeling that Kenny _did _take advantage of me...ugh...

"Kenny...were you drunk off of _your_ fucking ass, too?" I started, deciding not to hold back. I was crying softly now. "Or were you just taking advantage of me?" Kenny's eyes widened.

"I would never do that, Stan! If I did, I would be crying right now too!" He says, pulling me into a tight hug. "It's going to be okay, yeah? Wendy doesn't need to know. If she asks where you were you can just say you were...with Kyle. Okay? Don't cry. We're keeping this between us." I relax slightly at Kenny's soothing voice. He was right. Yeah...Kenny would never try to mess my life up. He knows that Wendy would freak if she heard that I slept with Kenny, even though I was drunk. And he knows that she might just break up with me and go back to Token. If she did that I would feel betrayed, but I would still love her. I've always loved her, because even when I called her a bitch for breaking up with me I was still tearing up on the inside. I just learned to forget about it because I would always have Kyle. And as they say, bros before hoes. Wendy's not a ho, of course, but still. However, we're in high school, and if Wendy broke up with me after we just recently made an oath to each other to have sex only when we're both ready and not have it with anyone else, I might just shrivel up and die.

"But...I don't want to lie to her..." I whimpered quietly.

"Sometimes you have to." Kenny murmurs. "I'm sorry, but you should leave soon. If my dad or brother catches me with you in my room, they might just...never mind. You don't need to know." I processed that it was something bad.

"I'm...sorry, I'll leave." I gently break free of his grasp. "U-um, see you around, Kenny. I'll text you...or something."

"No, Stan, _I'm_ sorry. Good luck with Wendy, and remember that nobody else knows of this. Nobody's ever going to know." Kenny said apologetically. What about Kyle?

"...can I tell Kyle? I...I'll feel better if he knows. He'll understand." I pause. "I mean, you understand too, of course."

"Yeah okay, you can tell Kyle. But we have to make sure that this doesn't somehow get to Cartman, yeah?" Kenny confirms. I wipe a stray tear off my face.

"Uh huh, obviously. Bye...Kenny." I lower my head sadly and exit his room. As I was walking away, I didn't see Kenny putting on his Mysterion costume and jumping out the window to look for and then protect his beloved Karen. I walk out the front door and see a dark blur whisking by. Hm, what was that?

...

I was tempted to stop by Kyle's house again but right now I just wanted to run away from the truth, so I walked into my own house and immediately headed for my bedroom. Unfortunately, my mom was downstairs.

"Hello, Stanley." she said sternly. Oh fuck. What did I do? I turned to her and suddenly felt self-conscious about my appearance. What would she think? My face is tear-stained and my eyes are a little red. I wonder if she would notice.

"Hi, mom." I replied casually, clearing my throat when my voice came out quietly and laced with sadness. Shit. "Um...excuse me." My mom's expression suddenly changed and she sprang from her place on the sofa, embracing me in a motherly manner.

"Where were you last night, honey? I was so worried!" She exclaims before letting me go. Damn. I guess I'm motherfucking lucky to have a mom who worries about me. We've always been close, but the older I get the more we drift apart. She still cares a lot about me though. I laughed lightly, trying to prevent my inner emotions that plummeted today from showing through.

"Didn't Dad tell you? I was over at Kyle's." I said, hoping that he didn't add the detail that I was also going to a party.

"Oh, you know your father. He was at the bar watching the football game." She says, clear annoyance in her tone. Oh yeah, the football game. Yeah okay, I don't really care that much about it. I still support the Broncos all the way, but...meh.

"Oh." I reply simply, and then decide to be sweet to cover up any suspicions she might have. "Sorry mom, I should've looked for you so I could tell you. I slept over at Kyle's and then we hung out around town today." I lied. Unlike Kyle, I was a brilliant liar due to the fact that I was in the drama club for all of last year and am still in it.

"That's alright sweetie. But...you look like you've been crying. Is there something wrong?" she asks, concerned. Shit, she noticed. I try to perform the most realistic fake laugh possible.

"No, mom. I just laughed so hard that I cried! Kyle's really funny, you know." I smile sweetly, hoping that my acting was good enough. Apparently it was.

"Ahaha, okay honey! I'll go start dinner, so I'll let you know when it's ready, okay?" She rubs my back for a second before walking off to the kitchen.

"Okay mom!" I call before walking up the stairs. Ugh. Fucking finally. Why do I have to go down for dinner? I open my door and resist the urge to slam it shut in anger, instead choosing to shut it quietly. I turn and look towards my bed before sighing and falling onto it pathetically. I take out my phone and check for messages. It was 7:26. 1 new one.

"I guess we could. But I thought that you would have wanted to spend more time with me at the party..." Wendy Testaburger, 6:52 P.M. Guh. Leave it to Wendy to make me feel like I did something wrong. Pouting and curling up, I sent her a message.

"I love spending time with you, Wends, but us guys need bro time. So yeah, let's totally hang out tomorrow. My place or yours? Love you." Stan Marsh, 7:28 P.M. Fuck, I just want to jack off or something, but I'm too sad to jack off. Bored and not wanting to curl up and cry all night, I go over to my computer and check Facebook. I had several notifications and absently checked them. I sit there and do nothing, switching between fucking around on Facebook, texting Wendy and texting Kyle until my mom calls me down for dinner. Taking a deep breath, I descend the stairs and sit at my usual place at the dinner table. My mom is standing there, arms folded and glaring.

"Stanley Randall Marsh." she growls. I visibly flinch. What is it this time?

"W-what's wrong, mom?" I ask calmly. Did Dad tell her the truth? I flick my gaze in his direction for a second. He was just casually drinking a can of beer. I looked to Shelly. She had a dark, sadistic expression on her face. Yeah, of course _she_ would be happy when I get in trouble.

"I called Sheila and she said that neither you or Kyle were at her home for the later part of yesterday. You lied to me, Stanley. Care to tell me where you _actually_ were last night?"

Shit.


	3. Chapter 2: Proof

Dirty Little Truths

Chapter 2: Proof

Words: 4,736

...

I walked to the bus stop, dejectedly slumped over. I'm grounded. Wonderful. But of course, even when you're grounded, you still have to fucking go to school. I had hung out with Wendy on Sunday. We talked and kissed, but I had felt guilty the entire time. It was like I was two-timing with Wendy and Kenny...but the Kenny thing was a one-night stand. Did it even happen? I don't have any real proof that it did. I don't remember fucking anything from the party after I got drunk. God dammit. Ugh, just stop thinking about it. Wendy doesn't know, and she still loves me. That's all that really matters, right...?

"Hey, guys." I muttered. I was the last one to arrive.

"What's wrong, dude?" Kyle asks, smiling slightly. He looked a little nervous. Hm. Was he going to tell me whatever he wanted to tell me today?

"My mom grounded me because I told her I was at your house instead of at the party." I explained, rolling my eyes.

"Really? My mom totally grounded me too!" Kyle said, laughing in a jittery manner. Why was he laughing about that...? Whatever.

"Well, that sucks for you guys." Kenny chimes in. "Nobody even knew I was gone." He turns away when my eyes meet his. I glare at the side of his head for a few seconds before making my expression normal again. I don't want anyone to be suspicious, after all. Kyle frowns. He probably over-analyzed what Kenny said and then felt sorry for him because he knows that the situation with his parents is not funny or a good thing at all.

"My mom let me go to the party without grounding me." Cartman announces proudly. Yeah, whatever, Cartman, you spoiled bastard. Wait...he actually is a bastard. Yeah, don't say that out loud.

"Whatever, Cartman. How'd you even get _in_ to the party?" I asked. Who would have invited him?

"I invited him." Kenny said. What the fuck, Kenny.

"Um...why?" said Kyle.

"Why not? Parties are supposed to be awesome for everyone." Kenny optimistically points out.

"I guess that's true. But nobody likes Cartman."

"Ay! _Everyone_ thinks I'm cool! But everybody hates you, didn't you know that?" Cartman yells. Ha, very funny. Kenny and Kyle laugh at his stupidity.

"What do you mean everyone hates Stan?" Kyle stutters, turning away when I smile at him. "He's one of the most popular sophomores at school."

"Thanks, Ky." I put my arm around him in a bro-like manner, but Kyle flinches. Cartman frowns, annoyed that the insult didn't provoke anything.

"Shut up, Jew! You're just a faggy bookworm who...nobody likes!"

"Don't call me faggy." Kyle responds, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. Before they can start an argument, the bus arrives and I board it gratefully.

...

Why was I grateful to get on the bus again? I yawned, stretching in my seat. God, I hate first period. Pre-calculus is boring as fuck. I don't understand this stuff. For some reason, I'm in all honors classes. I mostly got Bs, sometimes Cs, and on a rare but awesome occasion, As. Academics don't really matter much to me because I just need to get grades good enough to get a football scholarship. But somehow, I have a 4.0 GPA.

I hid my phone under my desk and began to text.

"Hey Ky. Fuckin boring, right?" Stan Marsh, 9:14 A.M.

"Actually I find it quite interesting, Stan." Kyle Broflovski, 9:17 A.M. Oh Kyle. Always such a good scholar.

"How is that even possible? O.o" Stan Marsh, 9:18 A.M. I smiled as I sent the message, glad to be able to ignore the teacher if only for a few seconds.

"Stanley Marsh!" said teacher called. I composed myself and pretended to have been paying attention, grabbing my pencil and drawing a small picture of my dog, Sparky.

"Yes, ma'am?" I asked innocently. Oh Christ, was she going to ask me how to do a problem? If she does, I'm royally screwed.

"Pay attention, young man. You're lookin' all dreamy over there." she lectured. Some of the class laughed a bit. The fuck? "For the rest of class, I want you to take notes. Return them to me at the end of the period." Okay, the school should fire this teacher. She's way too fucking harsh.

"I'm trying to take notes. Can you stop texting me please?" Kyle Broflovski, 9:23 A.M.

":( Kyle what's wrong?" Stan Marsh, 9:25 A.M.

"Nothing, just stop texting me" Kyle Broflovski 9:27 A.M.

I sigh, annoyed that I couldn't text my SBF anymore and I had to take notes, too. What the hell does L=log(1-10-7)L mean?

...

Finally, pre-Calculus was over for the day. Well, not completely. Our sadistic teacher gave us, like, 3 hours of homework to do. God fucking dammit.

"Hey faggot." A random kid said. He was over six feet tall and loomed above me intimidatingly.

"Hey douche. What's your problem?" My voice trembled just the slightest bit. I tried to be tough but this guy was probably a senior, and he could fuck me up pretty bad.

"I heard you slept with that fag Kenny McCormick. Do we really need any more queers in this school?" My eyes widen and I struggle to stand up straight. Regaining my composure, I ball my hands into fists and continue.

"You think that's _true_? I'm fucking straight!" I announce, glaring at him strongly. "Go try and intimidate the person who told you that, not me."

"Oh, I'm intimidating you?" He smirked victoriously. I rolled my eyes.

"Fuck off. I'm late for class." I said dismissively, walking away as fast as I could. Oh god, what's going on?

"Pussy!" the kid taunted as I walked away. I take in deep breaths as I enter the boy's bathroom, entering a stall and sitting on top of the toilet. I put my feet on the closed toilet lid and hold my knees close, lowering my head so no one could see me. Okay...who the _FUCK _told that guy what happened at the party? It couldn't have been Kenny, right? I really need to talk to Kyle about this. After gym would be snack. I could talk to him then. After peeing I exit the stall and wash my hands while looking in the mirror to make sure I look normal before hurrying to the school gym to do P.E.

...

A few snot-nosed kids had teased me about being a queer and gaywad and such in P.E. Coincidentally, Kenny has gym in the same period as me so we stayed away from each other to avoid any more insults. I hurry into the hallways after changing back into my normal clothes and frantically send a text to Kyle.

"Kyle, this is serious. Where are you dude we need to talk." Stan Marsh, 9:37 A.M. I open the double doors of the school and grimace as some snow flies into my face. Crap, ugh, why is it snowing? I round a corner and find some shelter outside of the auditorium. Our school does musicals in the spring and people have to wait outdoors before they can enter the theater. I sit down in a dry corner and hug my legs.

"I'm studying in the library" Kyle Broflovski, 9:40 A.M. What a half-assed reply.

"Ugh, Kyle I'm outdoors by the auditorium. Come over here." Stan Marsh, 9:42 A.M.

"What? We're not supposed to exit the school without permission! And...what if you freeze?" Kyle Broflovski, 9:43 A.M.

"I don't want to take the risk of having anyone else hear this, okay? Please, just come out here!" Stan Marsh, 9:44 A.M. I didn't get a reply, but I soon saw Kyle pouting as he walked toward me. He "humph"ed when he sat down.

"If I get in trouble for this...I swear." Kyle mumbles.

"You won't," I assure him, pulling him close to me for warmth. "Okay, so...I need to tell you something. Remember when Kenny went into your room and was like 'Stan's such a sexy beast' or whatever?" Ugh. This sucks.

"Y-yeah...?" Kyle pouts more and blushes slightly. I sigh heavily because now I have to tell him the truth...the vague truth, at least.

"U-um...Kenny and I...slept together at the party." I let out the confession and hung my head in shame.

"What?" Kyle yells, his short temper getting the best of him. His face turns red and he clenches his teeth in anger. "How could you sleep with him? Don't you know that-" his voice cuts off and he covers his mouth.

"Know what?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing! You cheated on your girlfriend, Stan, you should feel ashamed!" Kyle lectures, struggling to change the subject. He crosses his arms. I roll my eyes and decide to not interrogate Kyle right now.

"Kyle..." I say quietly. "Please don't tell anyone...a few people know about it and they teased me today. I don't really give a shit about what they say but if Wendy finds out..." I stop, knowing that Kyle would understand. The red-haired boy calms down slightly and turns to face me.

"I won't say anything. But please...don't be stupid again." He scolds me and starts to fiddle with his hands nervously.

"Yeah, I learned my lesson." I announce, smiling. "But I wonder how the hell people know about what happened." I added as an afterthought. I took one of Kyle's hands and pull him as I stand up.

"Come on, let's get back inside before someone finds us." I tell him.

...

I grab my gym bag and leave the locker room, ignoring one of the members of the football team who was staring at me wearing a shit-eating grin while pretending to jack off an invisible dick. The cold gust of wind from outdoors is a refreshing change from the sweaty and hot locker room, and I text my mom to pick me up. In the car I get a text message.

"stan? did u tell anyone? omg i couldnt mention it to u in school but srsly fuck whats going on why does everyone know" Kenny McCormick, 3:14 P.M. Oh no...I sharply inhale as I read the message.

"Honey? Is there something wrong?" My mom asks worriedly. She's being sweet to me even though she grounded me, because she's weird like that.

"Nothing, mom. ...just, a, um...sad text message from one of my friends." I had to provide an explanation, and this one was mostly true.

"Oh my. Well, I sure hope that they feel better. Just remember that you can't go over to their house or anything like that, Stanley." God, she's so bipolar.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry Kenny, I dunno what the fuck's going on. I didn't tell anyone but I was kinda afraid that you did. Well okay, I did tell Kyle but that was after I found out that lots of people knew, and you know that he won't tell anyone." Stan Marsh, 3:17 P.M. I exit the car and head straight for my room before flopping onto my bed.

"fuck. fuck, omg stan my brother and dad know but i dont know how...help stan plz come over or something they could fucking kill me" Kenny McCormick, 3:19 P.M. Oh fuck! This is horrible!

"I'm grounded, Kenny, remember? You can defend yourself right? It's gonna be okay." Stan Marsh, 3:20 P.M.

"Kenny? Are you there?" 3:36 P.M.

"Oh god are you okay Kenny?" 3:51 P.M. Okay, fuck my mom's rules. I open my window and carefully climb down the tree conveniently placed in front of it before running towards Kenny's house. Kenny's parents run a meth lab and not only do his older brother, Kevin, and his dad do meth, but they drink all the fucking time. Also, they hate gay people. They might have really fucked up Kenny. There's no way that I'm gonna knock on the front door so I sneak around to where Kenny's bedroom window is. The window has a little crack in the corner that I proceed to look through. The room looks shitty like usual, and Kenny isn't in it. Ugh. I had no choice but to go for the front door. I knock and wait patiently, but no one answers. Finally I open the door, which doesn't have a lock, and find the "house" deserted.

"H-hello?" I call nervously. I search every room for a sign of Kenny but I couldn't even find his phone in his bedroom. Did he...run off? I exit the house and close the door carefully. Kenny has disappeared before, but he always comes back. This time I really have a worried feeling, though, because Kenny's family can be really deadly.

...

Cartman's leaning on the side of his house as I walk by it. He's smirking devilishly and crossing his arms, snickering as I ignore him.

"Ay, where are you going Stan?" He asks, slightly surprised. I sigh and turn around.

"What do you want, Cartman?" I say, exasperated. If this is about me sleeping with Kenny...I swear.

"I got you, Stan." He said simply. He walked over to me and pointed at my face mockingly. "You know what I'm talking about, dude!"

"H-huh?" I stutter. Is he...did he...no. Was he the one who told everyone? Jesus fucking Christ, how did he know? I don't even remember seeing him at the party! "Do you mean..."

"Yes Stan, I told everyone that you slept with Kinny." He announces victoriously. I grit my teeth and ball my fists, trying to keep myself from beating his face in. I run a hand through my hair and sigh loudly, deciding to keep it cool for now. I can't let him know that I really did sleep with Kenny, after all.

"What the FUCK are you talking about." I state bluntly. "Slept with Kenny? In your dreams, Cartman." I manage to put on a cocky grin to confuse him.

"You can't lie to _me_, dude. I saw you fucking Kinny's brains out in one of the bedrooms in Bebe's house." He laughed as he said this, and I immediately frowned.

"Come on, why do people believe you anyway? They trust _my_ word over yours. Why are you going around spreading a stupid rumor?" I point out, slightly confused but not letting it show.

"Well, you know, Stan...guys don't like you. When I told people about you sleeping with Kinny, they happily took advantage of it. They told everyone they could, because they want you to be_crushed_." Huh? Is he serious right here? Cartman hates me less than anyone else. Why is he being such a fucking jerk?

"What the fuck? Cartman, you have to face the fact that no one likes _you_! Okay? People just think I'm a cool person to be around! It's as simple as that! And you know, it's only going to backfire on you when people find out you have no proof." I rolled my eyes. I hate it when I end up giving advice to Cartman, but he's sort of my friend anyway so whatever.

"I'm not a fucking idiot! I _do_ have proof." Cartman retorted. I narrow my eyes.

"You're a fucking idiot for messing with me." I threaten, knowing I could beat his face in if I wanted to. To my surprise, Cartman appears to be unaffected.

"Let's not be like that, Stan. Why don't you just come inside?" He invites smugly, opening the door to his house and gesturing to the living room of it. I sigh and reluctantly follow him. I'm not supposed to be doing this because I'm grounded, but I don't really have a choice. Unfortunately, Cartman could have photoshopped pictures or something. But how would he know what happened in the first place, unless he just happened to guess? Did he see Kenny and I at the scene? Oh god...

...

I folded my arms and waited with limited patience as I sat on Cartman's bed. Ew. I really don't want to know what has happened on these covers. Ugh. Fucking gross. Finally Cartman entered the room, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Cartman, what the fuck were you doing?" I accused angrily.

"I was just, um...nothing! Why do you care, hippie?" He said. I'm not a fucking hippie, Jesus Christ.

"Just show me the fucking proof," I scoff. "I'm really pissed at you, dude. Really fucking pissed." Cartman grins at this. God dammit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Stan. Am I angering you? Well I didn't really _mean_ to, you know. It's _your_ fault you slept with Kinny." He rubs this in my face and I feel a huge pang of regret. But I can't let him fucking get to me.

"Cartman, stop stalling! Just show me your proof!" I demanded, ready to attack. Cartman smiles and takes out his iPhone from his pants, tapping the screen a few times. He then sits next to me and shows me the screen of his phone. There was a video ready to play on it. His thumb pushed the play button and my eyes widened. No, no. This is fucking for real. It was a video of Kenny and I...having sex. I really was on top. I really was fucking him. Our moans and gasps were audible and filled with pleasure. Cartman laughed giddily, but I ignored him and laid back on his bed. I don't care about the covers at this point. I don't need to see any more of that video, either. We really did fuck that night, and Cartman has clear, visible proof that can't possibly be fake. That was definitely Bebe's house...definitely the guest room I woke up in on Saturday morning. The light was on in the room for some reason, and in our drunken haze Kenny and I must have been too distracted by each other to turn off the light or fully close the door, because it was half-open. Thank fucking god nobody else saw us fucking. What if Cartman showed people the video? I wouldn't be able to do _anything_ about that! "Did you show anyone this video?" I asked in a small voice.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." He says, proud as a cat who just ate their owner's goldfish. I sat up, burning with rage. I lunged at Cartman and put him in a choke hold against his headboard.

"Now, Cartman." I said sweetly, breathing against his neck. "You're going to tell me if you showed anyone that video...and if you did...you're going to tell me _who_ you showed the video." My elbow rested against his chest, and I felt his heartbeat quickening. He looked slightly frustrated to be in such a vulnerable position. I smirked, my eyes glowing with blue fire staring at his narrowed hazel ones.

"I didn't show anyone the video." He admitted. I couldn't sense a betrayal of honesty in his voice. He must have been telling the truth. "But...I'm sure that I could show Wendy the video if you wanted me to..." That was the last straw. I grabbed his phone from his bulky hand and struggled to find the video. It was locked, and I had no fucking idea what the password would be. So, I shoved the phone in front of his face.

"I will smash this against the fucking wall if you don't delete the video off it right now." I growled menacingly, teeth gritted.

"Go ahead. I have the video on my computer." He said, shrugging casually. Fucking ugh. There's no point in destroying his iPhone. I'm sure that he would tell his mom and I would get in trouble for it, the fucking pussy. So I harshly released Cartman from my tight grip and stomped over to his desktop computer, clicking the mouse frantically. The computer was locked too, and I am NOT going to break someone's computer. That's just not cool. Ugh. Cartman's retarded. Maybe the password is simple. I entered "PASSWORD", "ERICCARTMAN", "ERIC", "CARTMAN", "THECOON", "COON", and then gave up. Who the fuck would make passwords as stupid as those anyway? Nobody's _that_ retarded. I whipped around to face Cartman and glared at him. There was no way I was going to let him have control over me.

"Cartman. You are going to get rid of all the evidence that I slept with Kenny. Or I will fucking knock you unconscious. Are we clear?" I announce, walking forward.

"Nope. Not happening, dude." He replies, clearly humored by what I said. Okay, I'm pretty fucking sure that his mom isn't home right now, and I don't even care if he tells her or whatever. It's time to fight. I let out a battle roar and lunge towards him, straddling his midsection and securing his arms to both sides. To my surprise, he pushes me off. I land on the carpet floor directly on my back and let out an alarmed squeak.

"That fucking hurt!" I protested, moving to get up. But he then stands up from his bed and pins me onto the ground by putting his legs on either side of me.

"Think you're the strong one here?" He teased. I huffed in frustration before pushing his heavy body off of me with all my might and rolling us over.

"Yes," I replied simply. I know that Cartman has some bulk on him but I'm sure that I'm going to be the winner of this battle. But there was no point in just holding him like this. I raised one of my legs and brought it down forcefully, kneeing the teen below me in the thigh as a warning. He inhaled sharply and flinched. Then I realized that Cartman could easily knee my crotch in this position, and so I rolled off of him before getting up. Cartman lay on the floor of his bedroom, confused.

"What the hell, Stan." He said.

"Get up if you haven't forfeited." I muttered. But of course he wouldn't give up; I barely hurt him at all. He smirks and gets up, running a hand through his hair.

"Come at me, hippie. Come on," He challenged in a lame voice, jumping between either foot and attempting to intimidate me. I roll my eyes and punch him in the stomach.

"Owwww," He groans, now angry and holding his stomach. I feel a small flicker of fear when he jumps forward and slugs me in the shoulder. I react by headbutting him, causing him to stumble backwards. He doesn't make a noisy complaint this time, and kicks me in the groin. Ugh. I was expecting that. I was going to punch him in the face or kick him in the crotch, but you just can't do that early in a fight. It makes you a dick. But goddammit, Cartman's a dick. I kneel on the ground, hands on my crotch. God _dammit_. I feel nothing but pain. Why are balls so fucking sensitive? Cartman points and laughs at me, but I've had enough. I jump to my feet and knee him in the crotch while punching him in the nose. If he's going to fucking play dirty, then goddammit I'm going to too. He whimpers and shakes in pain as I gently pin him against his closet.

"Okay, Cartman. Are we done? Are you ready to get rid of the video? _Actually_ get rid of the video?" I whisper in his ear. I expected him to give in now because he's a pussy. He definitely couldn't fight like this when we were kids.

"Yes, Stan. Yes I am." He replies quietly. I loosen my hold on him, but he struggles to break free and attempts to ram into my stomach. I jump out of the way as soon as he begins to step forward. Ugh, that was fucking close. He groans in frustration and turns around, immediately running forward and slugging me in the jaw. I cry out in pain when I feel the impact and push him as hard as I can in some random direction. As he crashes into his bedside table he says "Staaaan...you're my friend. Why are you doing this to me?" _Now_ he's being a pussy. Blood had gotten into his mouth after his nose started bleeding.

"Cartman, it's kind of awesome to get to punch you, but I really just want you to get rid of the fucking video." I sigh. It was true. I wasn't about to try to make some kind of deal with Cartman, because I would just end up getting fucked by him. But then again, he could have the video saved in multiple places so it wouldn't really be gone. Whatever, I'll make this work out somehow. I looked at the scene before me. The impact with the table probably hurt like hell. A twinge of regret hits me. He's okay, right? Was I too hard on him? I bit my lip and stepped forward, kneeling on one knee and examining Cartman's face. I might have broken his nose. I want to help him, but I stop myself. He's done way too much to me, Kyle, Kenny, and pretty much the whole town all these years. And now that Cartman may have ruined my stable relationship with Wendy, it's not the time to be sympathetic. "Have you had enough?" I asked softly.

"I'm not deleting the video." He replies stubbornly. "It's fucking gold. How could I get rid of something like it?" He laughs sadistically. Ugh. What a prick. I see his arm begin to move and I slam it down onto the table before it can hit me. His hand knocks a small book off of the table and he lets out a noise of panic. It was open, and I saw his messy writing all over the pages. I quirk an eyebrow in interest, securing him so he couldn't move and bending over to get the book. Reading the page that it had opened to, my eyes widen. This is...a diary. Oh my god. Cartman, he...is this for real? I look to his terrified eyes, with my mouth open in shock.

"C-Cartman...you..." I stutter, dropping the diary and loosening my grip on him. He quickly moves to get the diary and reads the page I had read, instantly gritting his teeth and pushing me forward.

"Goddammit, Stan!" He growls, straddling me again and pressing on my arms with all of his weight. Fuck, he was so heavy I couldn't move.

"Stop!" I yell desperately. Murder glowed in his eyes and it was freaking me out. "I won't tell anyone!" I squirmed under him, kicking my legs up. My struggles were in vain, though, because my ankles were just hitting his butt and it wasn't affecting him.

"You won't? How can I trust you?" He questions, glaring at me intently. A deal...I would have to make a deal, right? This could work out!

"Let's make a deal, okay?" I propose quickly. "I won't tell anyone about your secret and you won't show anyone the video! We'll make a promise to each other! If the promise is broken, we are both free to do whatever we want!" I had formulated the plan quickly but it made perfect sense. Cartman relaxed slightly, and I exhaled in relief. His gaze remained hard.

"...okay, Stan. Fine. But if you tell anyone about this I will fucking murder you." Jesus Christ, Cartman is fucking scary.

"Okay! We have a deal! Fucking let me go!" I squeal in a high-pitched voice. I was out of breath because of Cartman's dead weight that was directly on me. If I fight Cartman again, I can't let him get me into this position. God dammit. After a moment of silence other than his ragged breathing, Cartman gets up. I scramble to my feet and sigh. "Let's not speak of what happened today." Cartman turns to me.

"No one. You can't tell _anyone_ about this." He murmurs, his voice cracking. He sounded slightly sad and regretful, and I avert my eyes from his guiltily. Not wanting to stay in Cartman's house any longer, I slipped out of his room, down the hallway and stairs, and out the front door. What I had found out continued to run through my mind. Oh god, why him? Why does he love my super best friend?

Eric Cartman is in love with Kyle Broflovski.


	4. Chapter 3: Ensconce

Dirty Little Truths

Chapter 3: Ensconce

Oh man, I made you guys wait so long! Sorry about that. I'm always ridiculously busy with school and music and sports and all, so I never have time to write. But school will be over on June 12! Yayyy! So excited. I'll be gone for a week a little after summer starts but after that I should have time to write plenty. Again, thanks for waiting and hope you enjoy chapter 3 ~

Words: 1,590

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I lay on my bed, eyes wide open as I stare at the ceiling. Subconsciously, I touch my jaw. Fuck! Cartman punched the living shit out of it. I should probably treat the gash that developed there...but god, I'm tired. Maybe my jaw was broken. I don't know. God dammit. Why did I fight him? I mean, I'm pretty sure he won't show anyone the video because...no, scratch that. Kill it. Our fight caused me to see his diary which then made me form the deal. What's done is done, right? Ugh.

I had crawled in through my window earlier so I don't even know if my mom knows I was gone. But she'll probably find out somehow anyway, I guess. I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching my nose. After today I just want to have a drink...maybe two, maybe five, whatever. But I know I can't. God dammit, one swig of Jack Daniel's is enough to make me drunk off my skinny ass, but at the party I just wanted to...indulge. Kyle really doesn't like it when I drink, and as soon as he found out back in fourth grade that I was chugging it every morning, he made me stop. He broke down and threatened to kill himself if I didn't stop, and slapped the bottle out of my hand. It was traumatizing.* Somehow I learned how to laugh and enjoy things again without alcohol. Kyle made me laugh. It was almost like rehab for a while, but my best friend was the only doctor. I guess laughter really is the best medicine. And fuck, that was , Kyle and I try to never bring up the subject of my drinking. Before the party, I hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol in like...a year. Kyle almost forgot all about it but I saw the flash of fear in his eyes when I picked up the beer can. I just tried to block the bad things from my mind and thoughtlessly drank. But now...fucking, why did I drink? I was so stupid.

I blow some stray hairs out of my face and the door to my bedroom opens. Shit. I sharply inhale as my mom walks in and I attempt to position myself so she wouldn't be able to see my wounded jaw.

"Hi mom!" I greet cheerfully. My heart rate decided to increase. Please...please don't know that I was gone...

"Hey honey." She replies sweetly. "What have you been doing up here?" My shoulders slump in relief and I hope that she wouldn't notice.

"I've...just been studying." I say. A horrible, typical excuse, and I'm just laying here, but oh well.

"I don't see any books." She points out. I have to fight my instincts to the death to prevent myself from rolling my eyes. No shit, Sherlock. My bed had nothing on it but blankets and pillows. And a mattress.

"Well, I'm just relaxing now. I've been super tired from football practice lately." I say, giving her a weary smile. It wasn't exactly a lie, I must admit.

"Well alright, Stan." She replies with her hands on her hips. "I'll call you when dinner is ready." I tell her "okay" and she walked out of the bedroom before closing the door. That cursed door. If I squinted I could still see the faintest stain of whiskey, as well as the mildest dent in the wood. I slump into my pillows and let out a big breath I didn't know I was holding. I guess I really got lucky. She didn't even notice my wounds. If she had, I would probably say that I bumped into my dresser or something shitty like that. It would be the only way to explain it without getting busted, since my football coach would tell her if he noticed that I had injuries at practice. I should maybe try to cover these bitches up. But how? With my mom's makeup? Ha, not happening. But how else?

I rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, getting out some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet and pouring it on my jaw. I grimace as it bubbles up profusely on my face. Ugh, it _is _pretty bad...I really should cover it up. Biting my lip, I hesitantly walk over to my mom and dad's bedroom. I spot my mom's makeup bag and unzip it, searching for something that was skin-colored. I soon found a bottle that said it was...foundation? I don't know. Why would you put foundation on your face? Wendy doesn't wear this stuff, she has nice skin even though she's pale. Anyway, this looked like it would work. I grabbed the bottle and zipped the bag up so my mom wouldn't notice in case she came in here before going back to the bathroom and closing the door there. With a slightly disgusted face I twisted the cap off of the bottle. God, a layer of colored stuff covering your face? I would hate that! I took the cap off and there was a little brush hanging off the bottom of it.

"Shit!" I whispered. Some off the stuff had dripped off of the brush thing and onto the floor. I put the cap back on the bottle and resisted the urge to facepalm as I bent down to wipe it off. Then I washed my hands with a pout and made sure to be careful when taking the cap off of the bottle the second time. After I did that I painted the brush on my hand and closed the bottle. I stared at the layer of skin-colored stuff, slightly confused. Do I just...put it on? I slapped it onto my jaw, hoping it worked. A stupid-looking splat was visible there instead. So I rubbed the stuff in and grimaced, that kind of hurt. Now it just looked worse. Maybe I would have to pile the stuff on to get it to look okay, so I brushed more and more onto my jaw and kind of patted it to get it evened out on just the surface of my skin. Okay, that worked! My wound was hardly visible. But this also felt kind of gross, to have fake liquid substance on my face. Oh the fuck well. I washed my hands again and returned the bottle to my mom's makeup bag before going back to my room. Right when I was opening the door my mom called.

"Dinner's ready, Stanley!"

"Okay, mom!" I shouted back, and started to descend the stairs. I smiled slightly. Maybe things could be okay. Even though Cartman is in love with my best friend...

...

After dinner the clock read 7:13. What to do now? I got pretty much all of my homework done in school, a habit that I mastered recently. Well everything except for pre-calculus, since I didn't get it. Fuck that class, I always end up blanking out in it because it's so early in the morning. _And_ it's really hard. Oh wait...Kenny. I should check up on him.

"Kenny, you're okay right? Please be okay. I went to your house earlier and no one was there :(" Stan Marsh, 7:14 P.M.

I leaned back in my bed and tried to rub the stress out of my face for the millionth time that day. I mean, I felt a little helpless with the situation. It was halfway my fault because I existed and decided to get drunk and because I apparently was a sexy beast, but Kenny is the one who's mostly fucked. Half because of me. Not to mention he was the one that got fucked _by_ me. Then my phone buzzed.

"o um...well depends on what u mean by ok" Kenny McCormick, 7:16 P.M.

I rolled my eyes. What _was_ my definition of okay? I mean I would definitely prefer for Kenny to just be totally unhurt. But with his family...was that possible? I don't know.

"Meet you at Stark's Pond at 10." Stan Marsh, 7:17 P.M.

I would prefer to meet him now, but that might be a bad idea just in case my mom decided to bust in. But she went to bed at like 9:30-10:00 so it should be alright for me to sneak out then.

"ok see u there" Kenny McCormick, 7:18 P.M.

Well, at least he was "okay" enough to sneak out. That was something, right?

...

A/N: * For elaboration on this, you can read "How Could You Do This to Yourself?" :D

Sorry for the shortness and filler-ness. But I needed to cut it off here for...reasons. You'll see ;D


	5. Chapter 4: Hurt

Dirty Little Truths

Chapter 4: Hurt

Don't laugh at my chapter titles haha. So, my teachers are evil: my teachers for next year for AP Euro and English 10H gave me an insane amount of summer homework. I have to read 4 huge books, write two 1,000 word essays, and record stuff that happens to 3 countries. Bleh. And I'm taking an online course of French. So I'll try to fit in writing this story between all of this the best I can. :( Sorry for the really slow updates all the time. Anyway, here's the fourth chapter of Dirty Little Truths! :D

Words: 4,130

...

It was dark and chilly outside. My breath was visible in front of me as I walked quickly forward to Stark's Pond. Shivering, I clasped my hands around my arms. This fucking orange jacket…It did practically nothing to protect me from the cold. But I wear it just for hope that I won't feel cold for once, and to look…normal, I guess. Same reason why I stopped closing my hood tight around my face all the time. I looked up. The outline of Stark's Pond was hardly visible in the dim moonlight. After entering the clearing of trees I sat down on the wooden bench facing the frozen pond, amazingly not covered by snow.

I sighed, putting my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. What was I going to do now? As a bitter reminder I brushed my finger over my bruised eye, flinching at the pain. That was probably the most annoying of the injuries I had gotten last night, but not the worst. And there was no way I was going to willingly touch my back. I knew how badly it was hurt.

For a while I just sat and observed the moonlit, snowy park. Suddenly I heard the sound of footsteps coming from my right side. I snapped out of my trance and looked down, knowing who the approaching person was. Unless, of course, it was some serial killer or something appearing to murder me in the dead of night. No, judging by the moon it must be around 10:00 P.M. I had been here for maybe forty-five minutes or so.

"Hey, Stan." I greeted as his dim, quickly approaching figure finally sat down next to me. My face was then taken into gentle, warm, gloved hands.

"Kenny, oh god, are you okay dude?" He asked, peering closer at my face. "Your face is bloody! Jesus! You have a black eye!" My face twisted into a frown.

"It's…okay, it's not that bad. Don't worry about it." I assured him, turning slightly to face him fully.

"Do you have any other injuries? Please be honest with me, Ken." Stan interrupted me before I could speak again. I mentally rolled my eyes.

"It doesn't matter. Anywa-"

"Yes, it _does_ matter!" Stan retorted. "Fuck! Please let me see them, okay? I only want to help."

"Okay, Stan, shit. But really, I don't feel like stripping out in the cold, alright?" I pointed out. Stan facepalmed.

"Ugh, you're completely right! I'm so sorry! Here, I can take you back to my house and-"

"Thanks for the offer, Stan, but I'm gonna have to say no." I replied dejectedly. I was a little too far off the deep end of self-pity to accept the hospitality of even one of my best friends.

"Please, Kenny! You've got to. I really don't want any of your injuries to get infected or anything, and I don't think they've been treated yet. It'll be fine!" Stan pleaded desperately. He was acting so…protective tonight.

"Fine." I sighed. Stan exhaled a breath of relief with a small smile. "But let me talk to you a little bit first, okay? I don't even want to risk anyone else hearing this. And I think I'm safe here." I scanned the surroundings. There was no way another human being apart from us was in the vicinity.

"Okay, Kenny. I'm listening." He faced me and took my trembling, ice-cold hands in his. I looked away, expression tensing.

"You're probably wondering what happened that night..." I started, trying to control my voice. Stan nodded understandingly, urging me on. "Well...I know you know...what my family is like...I guess I might as well put the first part bluntly. My brother and dad busted into the house, drunk off their sorry asses, and beat the living shit out of me." Stan flinched. Ugh, he probably somehow felt at fault for this.

"Fuck, Stan. If you feel responsible for this, I swear." I stated. Stan pouted and encouraged me to go on. "Okay, well, pretty soon into the fighting and yelling my mom came into the 'living room' and started screaming bloody murder. But she didn't really want to get in between me and my dad and brother, so she just begged them to stop." Stan seemed to be thinking. I think he knew that my mom was a bit different from the rest of my family, excluding Karen.

"I remember you telling me that your mom kinda cared about you more than the rest of your family does." He said, looking at me for an answer. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, my family hasn't always been this fucked up. I think it happened in 7th grade...when my brother started drinking with my dad. He got more attached to Kevin than to me, and somehow everything just went downhill from there. Anyway, I don't know if you've ever met Karen, but...she's like my mom too. Basically all the chicks in my family give a fuck about me and the guys don't." I explained, sighing with a shrug. Stan looked on guiltily.

"What happened...after that?" He asked.

"Well, then my dad got mad at my _mom_. He said something like, 'What the fuck, bitch! Are you trying to tell me what to do?' But my mom, like, damn. She was just cowering in fear. More terrified than me, it seemed like. Jesus. And I felt so fucking bad about it since she just wanted to help me. So I went over to stop my dad and shoved him away from my mom, standing in front of her to try to protect her." I paused, huffing in my speech. "Things just went downhill from there. My dad decided that his fists weren't fucking enough, so he picked up the bottle of cheap whiskey he had been drinking before and...well, I thought I was gonna die or something, so I turned and ran for it. Thank fucking god he didn't hit my mom with it, I swear. But then he hit me...right smack on my back." I reached behind me to feel the freakish wound again and jumped at the pain. Don't do that again. I looked at Stan hesitantly. His deep blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, sparkling with loving pity.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, Ken...but, go on, please." Stan told me in that honest way of his. I nodded, at least the worst of the story was over.

"Well really, I kind of wish he had hit me on the head cuz then I would've died." I added before continuing. This made Stan's piteous expression turn into one of utter horror.

"Dude! Don't think like that! No one wants you to die!" He clutched my shoulders in his desperation. I promptly rolled my eyes. Dying would have been much better, and I can't fucking believe that my best friends, after all these years, _still_ don't know that I always come back after I die. Fresh and sparkly clean. Just like their memories. Why I was born on this planet to be tortured my entire "life" I really don't know.

"Never mind. Anyway, I kind of passed out after that, and they must have done more to me when I was unconscious judging by the fact that I woke up without my shirt on...and more wounds. That's kind of it. It was probably like 4 in the morning when I woke up, so since I didn't have school I just kind of grabbed some of my shit from my room and snuck some food from the kitchen into my backpack and...left. I wanted to get as far away from the house as possible, and since the school was pretty far away...I decided to just camp out there for the day." I decided not to add that the entire time I was wallowing in self-pity and crying my eyes out.

"You _camped out _at the school?! Alone?! In the cold?! What the fuck, Kenny!" Stan scolded me. I also decided not to mention that I was feeling pretty cold right here, and the thought made me start shivering again. Stan noticed, and held my hands tighter. "Why didn't you ask me or Kyle for help? Or anyone, for that matter?" I felt that Stan was going to start mercilessly lecturing me if I didn't agree with him in some way, so I bowed my head in apology.

"Sorry. I just felt kind of done with life." I muttered plainly. Stan's face now looked even more determined. He stood up, taking me with him. My back shrieked from the sudden movement and I flinched.

"Oh god! Sorry! Here, do you want me to carry you?" He offered. I finally blushed at the extent of his kindness, but didn't give in.

"Nah dude, I'm okay. Thanks though." I replied, deciding to relax a little. It was gonna be fine. Who knows? Maybe after surviving that, I won't die again! And wouldn't that be amazing?

"Okay so, when we get inside my parents should be asleep. I sneaked out through my window, but I think it might be okay to go through the front door now." Stan told me as we walked to his house. "Then we can go upstairs as quietly as possible. Do you want to sleep immediately or would you rather take a shower first? I really have to disinfect your wounds for sure, though." I thought this over, and quickly came to a decision.

"A shower would be sweet. You know how my house is." I said bluntly. Stan frowned, furrowing his eyebrows and turning his head away from me. We were at the edge of his neighborhood now, since he didn't live that far away from Stark's Pond. I searched the rows of houses for Stan's, but I couldn't find it. Ugh. I'm so dumb. I guess I usually look for the dark green colored house and I know that it's Stan's, but that's in the fucking daylight and I have no idea how to find it in the night.

"Over here, dude." Stan pulled my arm gently to the left and made an unexpected turn. Oh. Duh. It was on the opposite side of where I was looking. Oh right, it's the fourth house down from here. We arrived, the dark green exterior of the house barely visible. Stan cautiously and quietly unlocked and opened the door. "Okay, the windows are all dark so I think everyone's asleep. Be as quiet as you can, though. Let's go inside."

...

I decided to take Kenny's hand as we walked through the pitch-black living room and to the stairs. Didn't want him to bump into anything, since he's a little uncoordinated at the moment with all the shit that's happened to him lately. I braced myself for the climbing of the stairs. Sure, my dad could probably sleep through an earthquake, but my mom was somewhat of a light sleeper. But the first step didn't cause a creak or anything, so I proceeded lightly. Without making much noise at all, we made it to my bedroom. I exhaled a sigh quietly, and closed the door before switching a light on.

"So we're good now as long as we don't talk out loud in the hallways or anything. Since it's Friday night, my parents are okay with me staying up, so we can go to the bathroom now to disinfect your wounds and the noise won't make them suspicious." I told Kenny. "If my parents for any reason somehow catch us, don't hide. It's not a big deal, really. I just didn't want them to know that I sneaked out. Also, if they see your wounds, well...that's another matter." Ugh, what would I do about that?

"I could say I got in a fight. Which is true." Kenny supplied.

"Ugh, but then they would get a bad opinion of you." I replied. "Um...well...god. I seriously would want to tell them the whole fucking truth, but-"

"What!" Kenny snapped, hardly controlling himself and causing the exclamation to come out as a muted hiss. "You can't...do that!"

"I know I can't! I've probably got one of the least crazy pairs of parents in South Park though, and this is gonna be an ongoing problem for you! Where are you gonna stay other than here anyway? Other than Kyle's house?" I argued. Kenny's expression turned into one of misery.

"Can we just not think about it right now?" He begged.

"Okay. Well I doubt my parents are really gonna barge in on us anyway, so let's go to the bathroom. Don't talk though." I commanded, and opened my door before heading to the bathroom conveniently located right outside of my bedroom. I shut the door behind Kenny and locked it, just in case. "Okay, dude. Now you have to let me see what they did to you." Kenny flinched at this. He slipped his parka off, but stopped there.

"I think it's gonna kind of hurt to take my shirt off..." He mumbled. His injuries were that bad? Ugh.

"Here, I'll help." I offered, and lifted the shirt off while trying to make its material avoid contact with his skin. Uck. Seeing Kenny shirtless sometimes made me feel fat in a way, but I knew that was just because he was really, really, _really_ skinny. No, I shouldn't want to be that skinny. Looking at his fatless abdomen, I didn't really see any wounds. Kenny rolled his eyes and simply turned around. My breath hitched in my throat. Right in between Kenny's shoulders was a vast, angry expanse of bloody red. It was almost amazing in a sense, because fuck. The bottle must have somehow shattered on impact to have done that much damage. Damn! Did that mean there could be glass in it? "Fuck, Kenny. Alright. This shouldn't hurt much, because it's just gonna be some hydrogen peroxide, but I'm gonna have to actually touch the wound." I retrieved the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some cotton balls from a cabinet and washed my hands thoroughly. Then I poured hydrogen peroxide on a ball and carried it across the wound, hardly touching it. Still, Kenny tensed up and muttered some choice curse words a couple of times. The thing on his back started bubbling up now, which was good. I kept applying the hydrogen-peroxide-covered balls to his back until the entire wound was lightly bubbling.

"Okay, all done. Now take a shower, and be sure to wash your back 'cuz you don't want the hydrogen peroxide to be on it for much longer." I said to the blonde in question. "Oh wait. Don't you have other wounds? I don't think there's much I can do about your black eye, just be sure to wash your face."

"Well, I had a little bit of a bloody nose but that's gone now. I think most of the rest of what I have is bruises," He pointed to his jaw, which, sure enough, had a purplish discoloring to it. "But there is a few wounds in other places..."

"Where? Show me, I have to sterilize them." I said impatiently. Kenny scowled stubbornly, but decided not to say anything else as he pulled down his zipper. His pants were slipped off fairly quickly. "Okay, where?"

"I've got some on my thigh, I think...ow."

"Here, sit down on the edge of the bathtub." I instructed him. He complied and I applied some more hydrogen peroxide to said wounds. Kenny pouted awkwardly. Was this awkward? Just a little bit. Just...a little. But why did they somehow make injuries on his _thigh_? I'm not gonna ask him. It probably happened while he was unconscious anyway. "Alright, all done. You should probably take a shower now. You know to work it, right?"

"Yeah." Kenny affirmed. As I turned to leave, he stopped me. "Wait." I looked back at him.

"Thanks, Stan." He said softly, with a tiny smile. I smiled back at him.

"No problem, sexy beast." I left and closed the door without looking back, snickering to myself. I waited for a few seconds, and soon enough I heard the shower starting. But for some reason I couldn't just go back to my bedroom. Kenny was in bad condition, after all. Who knows what could happen to him? Also, he's been acting so...glum. This definitely isn't the Kenny I know, but I can't blame him either. That's why I didn't say anything about it...I mean, sure, my sister used to beat me up when I was little, but...okay, let's just not think about that. What Kenny went through must have been traumatizing, and now he can't even go back to his own house! That's practically illegal! Yes, that's illegal. Kids are supposed to be able to live at home in safety. Kenny can't, though. So I'll just keep him here...

*THUMP*

Oh fuck! That came from the bathroom! Is Kenny okay?! I immediately went back to the bathroom door and opened it, closing it again before proceeding to check out the shower.

"Kenny!" I whispered. "Are you okay?" He was slumped against the wall of the shower, and other than the fact that he was down he looked fine. Thank fucking god this was a shower and not a shower-bath combo. There was nothing to fall against in the way he did and the shower was narrow, preventing anything much from happening.

"Yeah, I'm...fine, I'm just really fucking tired..." he muttered in reply.

"Here, take my hand." I offered. He reluctantly took it and stood up. My eyes traveled downward and I instantly looked away in embarrassment, face flaring up into a bright red color. Right...fuck. He was naked. I had somehow forgot that.

"Stan..." he said, voice sounding strangely needy. I turned back around to look just at his face. He looked flustered and desperate, actually panting slightly. Without my consent my eyes looked down again and I swallowed nervously, not really sure what to do at the moment. Then suddenly Kenny pulled me towards the shower. "Come in with me, Stan..." Okay, now _this_ was the Kenny I knew. To my complete and utter shock, he then proceeded to plant his lips right on mine and start teasing. For a second I just stood there, dumbfounded, but my body decided against my will to kiss back. Before I could really process anything Kenny had started littering kisses down my neck and playing with my hair as I started to get kind of turned on.

"Fuck, Kenny..." I growled. I was angry at him for starting this, but now I didn't exactly want to stop which was just making things worse. Kenny had started to claw at my jacket, so I finally gave in and took it off. But he started to pull off my shirt too so I got rid of that too. He gave me a lusty smile and I couldn't help but kiss him. Then he started stroking my muscles lovingly, and I let myself run my hands down his body, but when I got to his waistline I suddenly pulled back. I shouldn't be doing this. "I'm sorry. I just can't." I bit my lip, feeling horrible. I'm cheating. I'm cheating. That was cheating. Stop cheating. I sighed loudly.

"Good night, Kenny." I leaned forward to turn the water on the shower off, and didn't say anything more, just shutting the light off, leaving the room and going back to my room. The blonde followed. After he was in the room, I "tsk"ed and shut the door, leaving him alone in the room and going once again back to the bathroom. With a scowl, I jacked off the unwanted boner that I had gotten from my best friend seducing me.

...

I woke up with a jolted start. Ugh. The pain on my arms was dull now, which was kind of annoying since it had lost its initial bite. I glanced to my right. The bloodied towel lay on my nightstand mockingly. The clock next to it read 10:49. Saturday. The one day in the week I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn. Because no school, no church and because my parents aren't here. They like to disappear on Friday nights and don't come back until Saturday nights. I still don't know what happens, but they've been doing this since I turned 12 because that's the legal age for me to be home alone. They obviously seized the opportunity, though I'm honestly pretty darn surprised that they hadn't started it earlier because what's the chance of anyone finding out that some kid under the age of 12 in South Park is home alone?

Reluctantly, I slipped out of my bed and picked up my towel to do the weekly washing. I filled up the sink with hot water and just let it sit as I stepped into the shower. Last night was...amazing. I know what I do every Friday night is sick and wrong, but I just can't help it. I can't help that it's the only thing that makes me feel good. I grimaced at my fresh wounds as I washed the dried blood off of my arms, gritting my teeth to try to control the pain. There were no good feelings the morning after. One of the many problems of the habit.

I wish I had another method of release. Even a less extreme version of what I do would be much better than what I do. After washing off the evidence of last night (other than the scars) I exited the shower and toweled off before getting some laundry detergent and lemon juice to wash the towel. The sink was full of my blood, and the very sight made me nauseous. I can't help thinking that I maybe need help, but what could it do for me? Therapy was useless in the past, after all. The only thing that could drag me out of this mess would be leaving this town and my parents for good. Not that that would happen anytime soon, unfortunately.

Once I had finished washing the towel I threw it in the dryer and looked for some breakfast in the kitchen. Like usual, everything was mostly bare. I never really got fed much. So I settled for a bagel. After eating I went upstairs and laid on my bed, just thinking. Jeez. What was I? A masochist? I can't explain why cutting myself turns me on. I can't explain why every Friday night I cut myself and jack off to it. All I know is that it's the only way I can get out the anger that builds up inside me over the course of every week. It's the only thing that makes me feel okay.

The doorbell rang. Oh, hamburgers! Who could that be? I put my jacket on over my t-shirt to cover up my wounds, tried to make my blonde hair look orderly, and ran downstairs to answer the door.

...

A/N: Confused? Good. xD


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